


Nox Delectabile

by feckyeswriting (firelord65)



Series: Vivat Rex [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Finding Understanding, Kind of a spin off from the rest of the Series, Knight Rey, Mercenary Phasma, Nonbinary Character, Oneshot, Other, Porn with Feelings, Queer Themes, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/feckyeswriting
Summary: Rey has forged her new identity from the ashes of the life she left behind in the desert. Now, she looks to another step with the answer to a question she doesn't know if she has the words to reply to.





	Nox Delectabile

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a follow-up to my Medieval AU. If you’d like to read it, you can find it under my profile as the Vivat Rex series. If not, a few key points:
> 
> Rey has joined the new, violent nation of Primus as the vassal to the Regent after defeating Phasma and then Kylo Ren in armed competition. There was a coup involving riots and the Mandalorians (a mercenary force that Phasma had been a part of. I know that Phasma is not a Mandalorian. The concept worked best with the rest of the worldbuilding rather than making up a new organization). Rey knew briefly that Phasma was involved in the turmoil after having been acquainted. Neither have seen each other since the end of the carnival or the riots.

In the weeks that followed the tumultuous changes in her standings, Rey engaged in one single, simple self-indulgence to use the rough hewn baths under the officer’s quarters. Here she could rest in the steam-filled chambers or soak in the vast pools with equal leisure. There was a cool pool filled with fresh stream-fed waters that did wonders after a long day simmering in her armor or stiffly starched uniform. 

High enough in the ranks yet new enough to avoid outright attention, Rey slipped under the water without being disturbed. Night watch wasn’t to change over for several hours yet. She wanted to cleanse herself now before she could be bothered by the grimy, gruff guardsmen. Elsewhere in the baths she could hear the occasional chuckle or call of those dressing once more. 

Rey was alone in the warm water’s embrace tonight. There was comfort to closing her eyes and melting away into the warmth. After the route motions to clean the dirt from her skin and hair, Rey found herself a ledge to rest against. She kicked her legs idly, a small smile conjured as she watched the movement of the torchlight in the water’s reflections change from the motion. 

“Oh, how that blow would have rendered me defenseless far quicker than your blade did,” a familiar voice spoke from beyond Rey’s attention. She twisted her head and spied the speaker: the mercenary from the fighting ring. Phasma. She’d come in without the gusto or grumbling of the men. 

Rey stilled her feet and her head twisted in confusion. “I don’t believe a kick such as these would have moved you an inch,” Rey replied. The brawler had been sturdy on her feet during their match, a true contender against Rey’s swordsmanship abilities. Phasma looked no less surefooted as she stepped down the stone depressions to enter the pool. 

“I’m not speaking of your legs, much as there is to say about them,” Phasma chuckled. “I meant that fetching twinkle in your eyes.” 

Phasma sighed and submerged her whole self under the water before Rey could conceive a reply. She was left watching the woman’s motions through the dim torchlight and bobbing waves. When Phasma had emerged again, Rey was distracted trying to track a gnarled scar that twisted across the woman’s shoulders down below her neckline. She’d seen - and admired - similar scars on the bodies of her bedmates past. Then she realized just how she was staring. 

Rey recovered her composure gracelessly and coughed to cover for how her throat had caught. “I hadn’t expected to see you again,” Rey said earnestly. 

That toothy grin broke out across Phasma’s face. “After the carnival’s end?” she asked. When Rey nodded, Phasma added wistfully, “It had been a fantastic night for a riot. The fire was a beautiful danger. The perfect dance partner. Not so much to drive me away from Primus for good, though.” 

“I meant moreso that you might not have survived the riots,” Rey admitted. “What with so many Mandalorians being rounded up. I don’t know how you knew who was on your side in the chaos.”

Phasma regarded Rey for a moment between gentle strokes of her arms. “Were you worried I would forget the agreement that I made if I got caught up in the smoke and fervor of the flames?” She sank against the pool’s wall next to Rey. 

In all honesty, Rey hadn’t thought anything of Phasma once she had realized the woman was in on the coup. There had been greater considerations than the fate of a newly met stranger then. Now, though, after their second meeting Rey had found herself glad for Phasma’s continued safety. “I just meant how easy it can be to catch a blade in the wrong moment. It crosses the mind now, though, that perhaps you could have forgotten your side. It’s not as though you had sworn an oath or marched with those who knew your actual loyalties. Many of your old fellows still hang from the ramparts,” Rey said. 

“My ‘actual loyalties’ are still not known,” Phasma replied with a crook of her brow. 

That made Rey snort out a laugh. “You’re here in the bath house of the sworn officers to the crown and yet you’re claiming your loyalties are not made clear?” Rey scoffed. 

“You don’t believe that one can be loyal to more than just a single principle or person? I refuse to think in such straight, unyielding ways. I would have thought you understood, oh kingslayer,” Phasma retorted. 

Rey stiffened. Phasma slunk through the water to cross directly into Rey’s line of sight. “The walls have eyes. As have I. You should learn to bluff, red cheeks,” Phasma murmured. 

“How did you-- I mean, you’re so clearly wrong to claim--,” Rey sputtered hotly. She twisted her head around to see if they were still alone in this corner of the pools. Only torches and empty alcoves revealed themselves to her but the other pools beyond the benches remained out of her sight. Her heart hammered deep in her chest. In the two weeks since the king's burial she had not had such a blatant accusation leveled at her, never mind with the casual self-assured stature of Phasma. 

“Hush,” Phasma cooed. She draped her arms atop Rey’s shoulders to coax her back to a seated position. “Don’t make a fuss. I don’t  _ care _ what happened to the king. I merely meant that things are so much the more fluid between a woman and her so-called loyalties.” 

Rey floundered with her reactions still. Heat continued to burn at her cheeks, especially as she now was forced to regard the woman pinning her in place without the guise of modesty. Dark water did nothing to disguise pale flesh. “My word is my bond,” Rey hissed. “I swore myself to my liege lord. Not the throne. That’s not- not  _ fluid _ . It’s fact.” 

Phasma hummed. She was undeterred and now amused. “So that’s how you sleep so soundly with your decisions. There’s nothing wrong with that. I wonder though, when you say you are sworn to him…” Phasma trailed her thoughts to drag her gaze from Rey’s eyes to take in the rest of her. When she returned to meeting Rey’s attention, Phasma’s was all the more heated. “...You’re not  _ sworn to him _ , are you?” 

There had been a time to push Phasma’s arms from their position on Rey’s shoulders. Now their slick skin had nearly fused. Rey’s legs which had been firmly folded in front of herself were now knocking against the slow, curious press of Phasma’s knees. Inch by inch, Phasma slunk forward. Rey shook her head not to answer the question but to save herself from the intensity of the woman’s gaze in front of her. Her fingers curled on the cool stone for lack of other direction. 

“See,” Phasma breathed. Her body glided through the water as Rey allowed her arms to slide further along Rey’s shoulders. In sweet torture, Rey could only tip her head back to keep them from actually touching. She could feel Phasma’s breath, warmer even than the water they sat in, curl along her lips and bared teeth. 

“You can be loyal to the man and also to your desires,” Phasma murmured. 

Rey tipped her head to the side before Phasma could press their lips together. Breath curled warmly into her ear. The water which had seemed so warm and comfortable just minutes previous now felt chilled compared to the heat of Phasma’s torso above Rey. 

“You presume my desires include someone such as yourself,” Rey replied. Behind her facade of steel-resolve and bandied words, she was bowing under the pressure of actually considering the woman in front of her. 

Phasma was patient. She didn’t move from Rey’s lap save to once again look over Rey’s frame. “Who do you think I am?” Rey didn’t have an answer to her question. “Who are you, then? I thought perhaps… Well, you certainly seem the kind of woman who would enjoy a woman like myself,” Phasma pressed. 

The water was still between them, barely moving with each push and pull of Rey’s breathing. She couldn’t hear anything beyond Phasma’s words and her own suddenly cachophenous thoughts. Who  _ was  _ she? 

Once she had started to ask the question months ago there had been an avalanche of more. Was Rey the kind of person to casually lie with Phasma? She had enjoyed her time -  _ times  _ \- with the lord and his knight. But that was easy, to a degree. Their attention was on Rey-the-knight, newly sworn and newly arrived. This encounter now had a different tenor to it entirely. Phasma sought her as Rey-the-knight and also Rey-the-woman. 

Could she as fluid with her wants as Phasma was? Was she content to follow through on it? 

“Am I wrong to think you are?” Phasma continued to ask. It joined the choir of unanswered thoughts in Rey’s mind. 

Rey struggled to speak. Floundering, she cast her eyes to the ceiling above. No answers were inscribed there in the rough stone. “I’m not a lady,” she sputtered. “You said- I’m not- I don’t lie with  _ other  _ women. I’m not the s-same as them.” 

There was a pause, just a handful of breaths between the two intertwined souls. Rey chanced a glance sideways once more. Phasma gave an odd sort of smile when Rey did. “Not a lady. I think I understand,” Phasma said. Rey was bewildered. Even she barely understood why she’d blurted out such a tender, unguarded thought aloud in response to Phasma. There had been a dozen other answers to give; a simple denial or acceptance would have sufficed. Had always sufficed in the past. But now it seemed that Rey was speaking her true mind.

Phasma continued to regard Rey carefully as she spoke. “But you have lain with women?” It coaxed a nod from Rey. She had spent more nights than she had fingers to count them with. “You just don’t see them as… the same… as you are.” 

Rey inhaled shakily. “I don’t know how to say it. But. I know,” she breathed. Her hand gripped the base of her throat where the confusion and stress now had coalesced. Fear, too, coiled high in her chest and she sought to disguise or perhaps strangle it - either would do - with her hand. One finger at a time, Phasma peeled her grip away to clasp hands atop Rey’s chest. She had yet to look away nor had her expression turned or soured. 

“The words may not be there,” Phasma said, “but I think I may be in the right position to understand someone not quite within the simple lines of one or the other.” 

It was too much, this woman’s understanding. It was too  _ easy _ , even. It had to be a misunderstanding, or worse, a rouse. “This isn’t what I wanted to say,” Rey lied. “I don’t even know why I’m saying these things.” Her instincts screamed to fold back, back into the dark waters under her where there wouldn't be air enough to speak. 

She swallowed more excuses. They weren’t true. Not really. Rey wanted to finally give voice to the confusion circling her heart. Truly, she did. 

“You’re saying them because you need to, dove,” Phasma soothed. Her thumb stroked the backs of Rey’s knuckles. 

It was the tenderness of the motion and the softness of her words compared to the heat that her first movements had held which caused Rey to push Phasma away. “This isn’t what you had wanted,” Rey said, insistent. She’d ruined the moment, ruined the delicious intrigue that Phasma had cultivated with her tantalizing, low voice and approach. Rey didn’t deserve the tenderness now when she’d foiled the actual, intended moment. “You wanted something that I’m not able to give, not in the right way,” Rey continued. 

She hefted herself out of the pool to physically distance herself from the woman.  _ Retreat. _ Instinct had returned. Here now was the time to run away to regret the mistakes she’d made to get in this situation. 

“Rey!” Phasma called from the water. Rey refused to turn about, running a hand through her hair as she floundered. Her clothing. Where had she left them? Which alcove? How could she have been so stupid as to  _ tell someone _ she wasn’t what she clearly had to be? How had Phasma’s talk of complexity, of fluidity, deluded her into speaking without realizing. 

Phasma wanted a woman. Rey couldn’t give that. She could lie, yes, and pretend as she had before. But here in Primus, here in her painfully new life, Rey didn’t want to fold back into such things. Yet all the while her thoughts screamed in painful cacophony: Her words weren’t there to describe her feelings; Phasma’s understanding couldn’t be, either. 

There was splashing behind her and the heavy footsteps of approach. Rey made it to the antechamber with her things before they could catch up. “Don’t assume to know what I want,” Phasma growled. 

“Not before I can tell you myself.” Rey turned, ready to protest on Phasma’s behalf. She found herself caught up once more in the whirlwind of Phasma’s intensity. She towered over Rey yet her movements were simply to card a hand through her hair and press her forehead to Rey’s. 

Rey gripped at the towel she’d picked up and closed her eyes. “You don’t want someone like me,” Rey whispered. “You want a woman, a proper one.” 

“Like hell I do. I told you, I can handle someone who doesn’t fit neatly into a single place,” Phasma retorted. “Just stop holding back or pushing away for one bloody minute and let yourself  _ be _ .” 

She wanted it to be easy. Letting go of the towel took one conscious thought to manage each hand. It took another just to breathe, though that helped because Rey could take in the subtle smell of Phasma. Last, she opened her eyes. Phasma ran her thumb down the curve of Rey’s ear. 

“Better?” Phasma murmured. 

“Almost.”

It took another dip into the well of trust for Rey to loop her arms around her waist. It was the first time she’d actually touched the woman herself. Phasma hummed at the contact. As Phasma opened her mouth to speak again, Rey tipped her chin forward to capture her lips between them. 

Not breaking off the kiss, Rey mumbled against Phasma, “Better.” 

It was like letting a hound off its leash. Phasma surged into motion, her embrace tightening around Rey. Her fingernails curled into the soft skin behind Rey’s ear. Their kiss deepened into another and then again another. 

Phasma broke for air like she’d been underwater, harsh and eager before diving back again to sample the taste of Rey’s bottom lip between her teeth. Rey returned the ferocity, gripping the tense muscle of her back to keep them pressed together. She vaguely noted when Phasma nudged her backwards only when the cool stone wall pressed into her shoulderblades and spine. Otherwise Rey’s attention was on the hot kisses and tiny nips along her chin and throat. 

“You want me,” Rey panted. It seemed silly to ask, yet the question had remained even as Phasma made her way along to the raised peak of her nipple. The grunt that emerged from Phasma seemed a suitable answer, along with the quick twist of her hand on Rey’s nipple. One was covered and teased with calloused fingertips. The other lavished under Phasma’s tongue and - just infrequent enough to coax out a stifled gasp - teeth. 

Rey was wanted. As she was, she was wanted. 

It seemed wrong to merely accept the attention that Phasma was giving. Each time that Rey attempted to maneuver elsewhere, she found herself foiled. Phasma captured both of her wrists and broke from her endeavor to level a wide grin at Rey. “You just don’t know when to sit back and relax,” Phasma teased. 

“I’ll… let myself be?” Rey replied. Phasma nodded.

“You had best,” she replied before dipping her head to the nipple which she’d abandoned to hold onto Rey’s arm. Rey couldn’t stop the hearty groan when Phasma’s mouth pulled so sweetly on the tender flesh there. And again when she latched on with carefully controlled teeth. Rey could feel her breath as Phasma merely held her nipple there, each hot exhale causing Rey’s insides to flip in anticipation. Then, when Phasma finally dragged her tongue across the captured, pebbled tip, Rey let out a frustrated cry that quickly turned to contentment. 

Phasma released her hold on one wrist to pull Rey’s leg around her waist. There was no hesitation from Rey as she then acquiesced to allow two fingers entry into her mouth. Her tongue laved at the calloused pads as eagerly as Phasma now worked her chest. There was a flutter to Rey’s heart as Phasma removed them. They paused just for them to move slightly on the wall as Phasma nudged Rey’s foot onto the bench. 

Their eyes met as Phasma rested her palm on the soft curve of Rey’s mound. “I want you. Do you want this; me?” Phasma said tenderly. Rey wanted to shout, wanted to cry, wanted to just reach down and slide Phasma inside her sex herself. Instead, she simply said the acknowledgement aloud. 

Hardly before Rey had even closed her mouth to end the word Phasma slid her fingers between Rey’s folds. Her fingers moved slowly, purposely, to caress and tease at Rey’s clit and folds. Spit mixed with wetness that Phasma’s ministrations had caused. Rey canted her hips to better catch the next motion on the sensitive skin there. 

When her mouth dropped open, Phasma was there to capture it with hers. When those firm, perfectly slick fingers pressed into her center at last, Rey gasped. Phasma cupped her face as her tongue coaxed Rey’s mouth into accepting its entrance as well. Rey sank blissfully down to Phasma’s knuckle. A slight curl of fingers had Rey groaning again. The stone chamber wasn’t made for subtlety. At some point they should have realized this was hardly the place for their tryst, but that had been far, far before Phasma was two fingers deep into her lover. 

She hadn’t moved, not yet. Rey was struggling against her desire to rock against Phasma’s hand and her trust in Phasma’s lovemaking. Anticipation writhed where Rey could not, baying to be abated. 

And then. How then!

Move Phasma did. Not in thrusts but in the barest of inches. The beads of sweat between Rey's breasts moved swifter than Phasma's hand and the pleasure was all the more delightful - no,  _ tantalizing _ \- for it. The heavy breaths Rey had not been able to contain before slipped out in needy pants, particularly when with a twist of her wrist Phasma began to roll a thumb against the nub of Rey's clit.

When Phasma unmade Rey, it was slow and calculated. Biting on her knuckles muffled some of the sound as the pleasure writhed deep in Rey’s core, begging to be shouted to the heavens. She settled for groaning Phasma’s name in their tiny alcove and praying it would be overlooked by anyone who still remained. 

Her legs shook, particularly the one still canted up on the bench. Phasma once again pressed her forehead to Rey’s. As Rey came back to her senses, she started to laugh. 

Phasma arched an eyebrow beaded with sweat. “What?” she pressed. 

Rey shook her head as she composed herself. It was difficult to put into words yet again. In the relative silence between them, Phasma led her by one finger once again to the water. This time Rey shivered as they entered the cool, springwater pool. 

“That was-” Rey started to say. Phasma covered her mouth with a hand to cut Rey off. 

“Don’t feel there’s anything to be said. Not unless you’re sure,” Phasma murmured. 

Tipping her head, Rey freed her mouth. It was easy to let the smile curl her lips. “Don’t presume to know what I was to say,” she teased. “I think for now that I’m past such reservations and worries to do something so silly as to apologize.”

“Apologize? I thought you were going to thank me. I would rather impale myself,” Phasma snorted. There was a glint to her eye yet; Rey knew she was jesting just the same. 

“You think highly of your handiwork,” Rey bandied back. She enjoyed their rapport. The fight to be quick, sharp, and witty was as much a duel as any match in the sparring grounds. 

Phasma wound her fingers between Rey’s. “I’ve had many a satisfied lover to give weight.”

“Can I simply appreciate that you still came after me?” Rey said, cutting away from the jokes. Her voice dropped low as did her eyes. The water was kinder to watch than to anxiously search out disgust or frustration in Phasma’s eyes. “You really wanted me. For me. All of me.”

Phasma would not be so easily avoided. Just as before, she placed herself firmly in front of Rey to cup her chin. Rey sighed and allowed her attention to once more be solely Phasma’s. “I would have been a fool not to,” Phasma said. Her thumb stroked softly across Rey’s cheek. It smeared water there and mixed with the thin trails of salty tears that Rey wasn’t strong enough to keep in. 

“You are beautiful. A handsome knight. Far better the swordswoman than I. And you’ve earned the ear of the king to be,” Phasma continued. She repeated herself once more. “I’d be a fool to look past all of that simply because you aren’t a woman such as I am. I’m  _ glad  _ you’re who you are, Ser Rey of Primus.”

It had been a long time since Rey had experienced the surge of pride and happiness with her title that she felt now. Coming out from Jakku and the Jedi, she hadn’t ever thought she could feel that same joy again; but hearing Phasma gush about her self, her  _ identity _ , with such vigor was intoxicating. Rey folded herself into Phasma, pressing her lips once more to Phasma’s. This time, it tasted all the more sweet. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about queerness and identities which are not so clear to describe. Within this world, Rey is not the same sort of Rey than I’ve written previously. I wanted to write something queer, something new, and something close to how I’ve chewed about yet never committed to exploring in my characters. I struggled with the inherent gendered language that we're all so used to using. In the end much like Rey though I don't quite have the right words, I hope that I can still present her non-binary identity in the right fashion. Pronouns are a tough call particularly with characters which canonically haven't been written in a queer fashion. I decided in the end to keep she/her pronouns with Rey. 
> 
> So... I hope this all still comes across as genuine and not a misfire on the end result.


End file.
